Here we find the Inkstands (Escribanías), and seated at one we see before us our trusty Scribe, Manuel, in one of the numerous narrow and winding streets that weave their way through the heart of Arcos. Houses with simple, white and stark façades line both sides of the streets, decorated with pretty gate-ways that conceal their indoor courtyards brimming with the toing and froing that forms the everyday life of its houses, more specifically, the sound of water trickling through its fountains to water the gardens and trees that offer shade as some respite from the intense sunshine.

The narrow streets form a bustling hive of activity throughout the day in which nobles, clerics, merchants, peasants and other residents go about their daily business until nightfall, when the din of the morning gives way to silence, occasionally broken by the trotting of the Mayor’s horses and the flames coming from the torchlights. Furthermore, the meandering and uneven layout of the streets not only facilitates its defence, moreover it provides well needed shade, lessening or hastening the wind and aiding the forging friendships and harmonious living amongst Arcos’ residents.

From the scribes’ words, we now move calmly on: strolling towards the Moorish Gardens, where memo-ries of Al-Andalus are still whispered through the water.